The Compost Heap - Worm Omake
by PencilMonkeyGaiden
Summary: Collection of omake stories written for other Worm fics.
1. Necronomenclature

_(Omake for Why Yes, I am an Evil Lair, by Automatonation.)_

 **Omake: Necronomenclature**

I glared at Tattletale. When this had no effect, I got a few zombies to do it, as well. "If we're going to be working together, we'll need to set up some ground rules."

Lisa, as she'd introduced herself once the mask came off, just grinned. "Whatever you say, boss-man!" She raised a flask of glowing blue mana potion. "After all, I already drank your Ghoulade."

I sighed. "First rule: Names."

The girl glanced to the side, where one of my minions trundled past. "Ooh!" She cheered. "Skulldozer!"

"I'm the one doing the naming, around here," I scolded.

"Wow!" Lisa pointed at another corner of the room. "Internet Server Ghost!"

I made my Zombie Commando fold its arms and start tapping a decomposing foot.

"'Interred' means 'buried'," mused the Thinker. "Interred-net? Internment-net?" She burst into hysterical giggles. "Try saying that three times, fast!"

"Who's running this dungeon, me or you?" I growled.

"Necromansion, technically," said Lisa. Before I could explode at her, she spun around again, and flourished a mock salute at another couple of my undead soldiers. "Hello there, Captain Corpse-mando," she chirped. "Looking good, Corporal Incorporeal! Keep that au-tomb-atic rifle ready, you never know when we might face another in-grave-asion."

Setting two of my zombies in motion, I had them grab Lisa by her upper arms, and drag her to the ooze-filled corridor.

"I'm sorry! Please don't, I promise I'll behave," she gasped, staring wide-eyed at the large firearms my minions were carrying. "I'm allergic to Uzis, y'know." She looked over her shoulder, and shuddered at the sight of my slime squad, roiling with hunger. "...And I'm not much better with oozies."

Watching her with quite a bit of suspicion, I let my zombies release her, but kept them close, just in case. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Tattletale."

She raised one hand in the air, and placed the other over her heart. "I swear! I won't even ask which one of your skele-mobsters is Al CaBone."

The badump-tish noise of a rim shot - or, as Lisa would no doubt call it, if she got the chance: A grim shot - filled my dungeon. Quickly moving my point of view to the source of the disturbance, I glowered at my zombie drummer. "Don't encourage her!"

Lisa was looking concerned when I returned, but not for her own health, it seemed. "You really need to relax, all those temper tantrums can't be good for your blood pressure," she warned me. "Or mana pressure, or whatever it is dungeons use instead of blood."

"Cut it out!" I hissed.

She gave a sombre nod. "Yes, surgery might become necessary, if you develop a corridor-vascular disease," she said.

I snarled at her, my zombies echoing my incoherent utterances.

Lisa snapped her fingers. "I've got it!" She gestured at my zombie horde. "Now that you have enough undead musicians for a full zomb-phonic orchestra, I'm sure you can spare one or two. Just have it making a constant, low moaning sound."

If I'd had regular eyelids, I would have blinked at her in bewilderment. "What in the Underworld are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard?" She grinned at me. "One of the best things to help a person relax, is a Wight Noise Generator."

"I should just have one of my minions strangle you," I grumbled. "Then, you could change your name to Death Rattle-tale."

Lisa waved a dismissive hand at me. "Nah, that's a terrible name." She suddenly perked up. "Ooh! I've been AllSeeingEye on PHO for a while, maybe I could change it to Sepulchral-Seeing Eye?"

Spinning around, I zoomed down the corridor. "I'm gonna go dig you a shallow grave."

"Wait! You can't leave yet," cried Lisa. "You haven't told me your own name, yet!"

I slowly turned back to look at her. "You can just call me Boss, or Master."

She tilted her head. "You don't even remember your own name, do you? That's so sad."

"Gee," I drawled. "If only there was someone here who had a habit of naming everything she saw, that'd be sooo helpful."

Lisa flashed a huge grin at me. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." She scrunched up her face in exaggerated thought, rubbing her chin with one hand. "Hmm... What about Terrence? That's a good name!"

"...Seriously?"

She nodded. "Absolutely! Only, since you're mostly made of rock and cement, you should be Cement-Terrence." Lisa's friendly smile morphed into a smirk. "Your friends could call you Cement-Terry."

I sighed.

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	2. Mouse Presenter

_(Omake for Freaky Friday, by TheGreatGimmick.)_

 **Omake: Mouse Presenter**

"Welcome to the Justice Brigade!" Mouse Protector beamed at Paige, sweeping both arms in a grand gesture at the trio of capes standing next to her. "We have TREE founding members, and that's why our glorious leader is known as Judge of the Jungle!"

The ear-endowed woman leaned closer to Paige, and stage-whispered boisterously. "If we wetuwn to Bwockton Bay, someday, we've got to check out the Pwotectowate HQ, out in the hawbow," she gushed in a not-really-hushed voice. "You can't visit Judge's old stompin' gwounds, without seeing the Wig!"

"Um," said Paige. "I'm pretty sure that, uh, only British judges use wigs."

Mouse Protector lit up in another twenty megawatt-grin. "That's right! Judgey is astoundingly Beatish. Heck, she beats Alexandria all the time!"

She vanished with a pop, reappearing next to another of the three capes she'd introduced as the Justice Brigade's founders. "This guy's Alibi! He can move people back to any place they've been in the last twenty-eight hours, and he doesn't even need line of sight to those locations," she explained. "So he's not just... A Leap-Eye!"

Alibi turned his head to give her a dubious look. "Now, that was a stretch."

Mouse Protector landed a few playful punches on his arm. "Yeah, but your power is a real STREAK! Boom, boom!" She turned and pointed at a girl who was trying to avoid the scene. "Alibi's got a teenage daughter. It's a shame she doesn't teleport, too."

Paige cleared her throat. "Er, doesn't the Brigade already have plenty of teleporters?"

"Sure," said Mouse. "But if she'd gotten a Mover power that was able to transport other people, as well, we could show the world that..." She took a deep breath, then made her declaration in a booming voice, laden with determination. "Turnabout is FARE play!"

Before Paige's ears had stopped ringing, Mouse had moved on to the next cape. "This broody moody dude-y in the hoodie is Basilisk," she announced. "When he picked his cape name, he wanted something dangerous - and it worked! Everybody calls him Bas, coz the rest of his name is too much of a 'isk."

Mouse's next victim was a disgruntled-looking female cape, her scowling face the polar opposite of Mouse Protector's bright smile. "Have you met Expunge? Did you know she got her name because she loves omelets?"

Paige kept her face carefully blank. "O-omelets?"

"Absolutely!" Mouse Protector's helmet whipped up and down with her enthusiastic nods. "She can slurp up EGGS faster than a SPONGE!"


	3. Show On Telly

_(Omake for Newspaper Mama, by DeviantD.)_ **  
**

 **Omake: Show on Telly**

"...And then she said: He found the Laundry of Alexandria!" Pausing a moment to shake her head in mock despair and waiting for the canned laugh track to die down, the monochromatic woman raised the microphone to her mouth again. "That's just tacky! I mean, if you're gonna crack jokes about the Triumvirate's Trium-derwear, at least have enough class to say 'lingerie'!"

Gesturing with her free hand, she mimed tapping two invisible boxes in front of her. "Lingerie... Library. Lingerie... Library!" She nodded at the audience, lower lip scrunched up in a goofy-looking pout, as another laugh track rang out. "You always hear about Brute ratings, but what everyone is really thinking about is the Scrote ratings!"

Putting one fist on her hip, she half-turned and addressed the other half of the room. "Brute ratings are great, though. When you've got one, you never need to worry about your internal organs getting bruised all sorts of neat colours and patterns." She slapped her stomach, and winked at the camera. "That's why nobody's ever seen the Liver-y of Alexandria."

"But that won't protect you from getting your feelings hurt," said the former Slaughterhouse member. "For some reason, people are always accusing me of seeing the world in terms of black and white." She made an exaggerated shrug and eye roll, to the general merriment of pre-recorded guffaws. "No idea why! But if you think I'm two-dimensional, take a look at the Binary of Alexandria!" The laugh track grew stronger. She raised a cautionary finger. "...If you can find it!"

The woman walked a few paces back and forth across the stage. "And what's the deal with all this wine and cheese that people are cramming in their mouths, these days? If you want a truly wonderful snack, look for the real deal: The Cider-Brie of Alexandria!"

"But even if you can find some of these rare and mythical things..." She put the microphone back in its stand, freeing her hands to let her count on her fingers. "The Library o' Alexandria, the Potpourri o' Alexandria, the Jamboree o' Alexandria... There's one that the media will never let you hear so much as a whisper about. And that's probably a good thing!" She lifted the mike again, and smirked at the audience. "The Gonorrhe-a Alexa-"

The wall exploded in a cloud of shattered bricks and mortar dust, as another female figure swooped into the studio. The flying woman grabbed the striped woman off the stage, pausing long enough that the viewers got a brief glimpse of a tower emblazoned on her chest. Then, she barrelled out of the room again, carrying the protesting stand-up-turned-take-away comedian with her. A jaunty tune started a-poppin' and a-playin', as the show's title appeared in the middle of the screen:

'SEINBERIANFELD'

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	4. Clandestine Meetings, Top Secret

_(Omake for Camery Shy, by TheGreatGimmick.)_

 **Omake: Clandestine Meetings of Top Secret Organizations**

Armsmaster banged his gavel against the table, then retracted it inside its concealed housing within his halberd. "I hereby call this meeting to order. First order of business: New cape sighting." He turned his helmet to glance at Miss Militia, gesturing for her to continue.

"You've all heard the after-action report during the earlier, official meeting." Miss Militia leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "Given the cape's ghostly appearance and the evidence of a teleportation power, my initial suggestion would be..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Telep-Haunter."

Frowning a little more than usual, Armsmaster tapped his chin with an armored finger. "The obvious shortening of that name leads to Telep-'Aunter, which is guaranteed to result in 'Auntie' jokes..." He nodded. "I approve, but I still think we can do better. Jaunting Haunter, perhaps?"

Velocity raised a tentative finger. "The description made the new cape sound like one of those wraith monsters from Lord of the Rings," he said. "With the added Mover power, how about... Spring-Wraith?"

Battery tilted her head. "Or Blink-Wraith, perhaps?"

"Don't forget the possibility that the... Wraith, or ghost, or whatever, may have been a projection, or visual illusion," Miss Militia interjected. "So, if we take Nazgûl, and add 'gaze', we have something like..." She paused for a moment. "Gazenûl? Gaiznûl?"

Battery shook her head. "Nobody will be able to figure out the spelling on that one." She shrugged, keeping her movements relaxed and casual. "Come to think of it, 'revenant' and 'teleport' are pretty similar words..."

Everyone jumped in their seats, as Armsmaster slammed a gauntleted fist down on the table. "Absolutely not! You're about to suggest 'Vetepant', which is: A) nonsense, and: B) your blatant attempt at setting up a string of cheap 'Wet-Your-Pants' jokes for Assault!"

Battery slumped in her seat. "Aww, c'mon!"

Miss Militia shook her head. "You're a terrible influence on your husband."

Velocity glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him, where words like 'LOOKY SPOOKY?' and 'SPOOKOUT?' had been scrawled. "Yeah," he laughed, crumpling up the paper and tossing it over his shoulder. "None of the rest of us would ever stoop so low. Ahem."

"If we stick with the ghost theme, and the possibility of a sight-based projection, we could do something with 'sightlines'," said Miss Militia. "Frightline?"

Armsmaster shook his head. "That name has already been taken. There's a villainous Tinker in Pensacola who specializes in freighters." - Battery clapped her hands. "Ooh! What if the revenant isn't a teleporter? What if she's just tucked away, snug as a bug, in a pocket dimension?" She grinned. "Reve-Nantucket, amirite?"

Groans echoed around the table, but Armsmaster nodded slowly. "Battery raises a valid point."

Battery's smile widened, as she straightened in her chair.

"Referring to the cape as 'she', I mean. Long hair aside, we can't be sure about the cape's gender," Armsmaster droned on. "Or sexual orientation, or anything of that sort."

Velocity scribbled a note on a fresh sheet of paper. "So, Shroud & Proud is still an option, then?"

Her smile fading quickly, Battery's enthusiastic nodding turned into a confused headshake. "...What? B-but what about the, y'know, name I came up with?"

Miss Militia snapped her fingers. "I've got it! A ghostly figure that pops out, then disappears again?" She looked around the table. "Peekaboo!"

A round of polite applause ensued, which was soon interrupted by the door getting kicked open. Light streamed into the formerly gloomy broom closet, outlining the figure standing in the doorway.

"Aha!" shouted Assault, pointing an accusatory finger at the other Protectorate heroes. "I knew you were still having secret meetings without me!"

"Sorry, dude," said Velocity with an apologetic shrug. "The janitor said we could borrow his closet, so long as we didn't try to cram more than four people in here. OSHA codes, y'know?"

"Besides," growled the rumbling voice of Armsmaster. "We all agreed that you wouldn't be able to treat these meetings with the necessary gravity and seriousness."

"Gravity?!" Assault howled. "You're wearing a fez and a fake moustache, each!"

Armsmaster folded his arms. "It's a very heavy moustache. Reinforced with steel rebar."

Battery sheepishly tried to hide herself behind Miss Militia.

Assault stared at them with a mournful look. "Et tu, puppy?"

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End file.
